In My Life Again
by nightkitty555
Summary: St. Mungo's is a place of both great joy and sadness, an interesting meeting place for a pair of long-time enemies. Hermione is alone in a very trying time, and Draco is suffering a loss, wandering the hospital halls. Rating is between T and M. Comfort/Friendship/Romance/Etc.
1. Meeting You Again

**Disclaimer for whole story: Of course, all rights belong to JK Rowling, et al. It's not actually a type of story that I have read before, though that may be my reading tastes, so I apologize if there are similar stories. I promise that I am not copying anything except from the great Jo Rowling.**

Chapter 1- Meeting You Again

_Those screams_, he recognized them instantly. Hermione Granger's screams still haunted him, and they sounded just the same now. _Like she was still being tortured_. He hadn't seen her since a much delayed public memorial service for Uncle Severus over a year ago. _They had to make sure everything 'important' was taken care of and that he was really "innocent" after all, pretentious bastards. As if people always had choices and as if lines were always so clear_. Draco felt compelled both to run away and to look into the room. He couldn't run away the last time he heard those screams. He was forced to stay and listen, even though he was blessedly outside of the room. But he sure as hell could this time. _Why wasn't he? What the hell was wrong with her, and why was she in so much pain?_

Draco should have known based on the ward that she was in, but he wasn't exactly processing thoughts clearly at the moment. His insides ached at least as loudly as she was screaming, and his heart had been hurting for hours. Draco was shocked to stand in front of the open door and see a half-naked and very round Hermione Granger screaming at the top of her lungs with three healers around her._ Someone should have at least given her the privacy of closing the door._

Draco was barely surprised when another healer, a young woman, walked past him into the room. "Are you family or a friend?"

"Uh, not really," Draco said before Hermione screeched especially piercingly.

"Do you know the young woman?" the healer asked.

"Yes," Draco admitted, knowing he shouldn't be here staring.

"I think Ms. Granger would like some support then. She can have a guest in the room with her," the young healer informed him. Draco had just noticed that the room was strangely devoid of redheads and freckles. _Hadn't Granger married the Weasel? Even if the one red head had bolloxed things up, where was his family? Or her family for that matter? And Potter? Did the healer say 'Ms. _Granger_?_' _Wasn't she a Weasley? How did an acclaimed war heroine come to be in a delivery room screaming by herself?_

"I don't think I'm someone she'd like to see," Draco managed to say.

"Can't know until you try," the witch said cheerfully, nudging him gently into the room before closing the door. She must not have recognized him. Draco suddenly thought that the young woman might have been a Hufflepuff, maybe on the quidditch team a year or two ahead of him. _Damn happy Hufflepuffs_.

He stood by Hermione's head awkwardly, at least staying out of the way of the healers. Hermione looked confused when she saw him, though she quickly appeared to stop caring when the next pain hit her.

"We might be better off working like a Cesarian," one of the healers suggested. "I wouldn't want to have to tell the papers that we lost one of the Golden Trio or her baby on the table." Draco's head snapped up, shocked at the appalling bedside manner. Hermione screamed loudly again, and the young female healer made an irritated noise. The youngest healer might have been here mostly for observation, possibly still in training, or at least significantly junior to the unpleasant middle-aged male.

"Just knock her out. She doesn't need to push anymore if we have to open her up," the eldest healer said. He was equally terrible. _Did anyone in this damnable place have any manners?_

Hermione looked alarmed, actually seeking out Draco's eyes as she moaned. "Does she have to?" Draco voiced, not at all sure why he was speaking. "I don't think she wants to." It might have been his imagination, but he thought Hermione looked grateful. "Can you give her more pain reliever?" he asked as well.

"She hasn't been very receptive to it before. We could try again, but she'd probably choke on it at this point," the older man grimaced. "And charms can only do so much to reduce the pain. Most of her discomfort is because the baby is turned a bit incorrectly, and she isn't dilating properly."

"You can let her squeeze your hand if you're brave," the young healer offered. Though she was Hufflepuff, she seemed the best of the lot. "It helps, and I'll heal it afterwards if she hurts it."

Surprising Draco, Hermione took the offered hand and squeezed tightly. "Sorry," she gasped.

"It's fine," Draco muttered, undoubtedly in the strangest conversation of his life. She seemed weak enough that even her tightest squeezes did not hurt very much.

"It will be best for you and your baby if you hold very still. We will stun you if we need to," the last healer warned.

Hermione whimpered.

"Try to think about books or something," Draco tried, feeling completely useless and not at all sure why he was here.

Hermione almost seemed to smile before she involuntarily convulsed when one of the healers actually began cutting into her flesh with a cutting spell. '_Barbaric_' was the only description that Draco could think of_._

One of the free healers promptly stunned her, but it didn't exactly seem to be "stupefy." Hermione was still conscious and able to move her eyes at least. They looked at Draco in pure fear, still in pain.

"It's almost over," Draco said, throat barely moving. He squeezed gently on her hand that was still placed in his. He hoped it was almost over anyway. _Bloody hell, the human race would have died off after contraception was invented if men had to give birth._

Draco glanced at her lower half and decided that however muggles birthed children, it can't be this bad. Astoria hadn't let him in the room. But he couldn't think of that anymore. _Surely even a knife would be better than a wand?_ _What if that old man had shaky hands? _ Two other mediwizards prevented blood flow as the head healer seemed to simply rifle through Hermione's internal organs.

Draco's eyes darted between Hermione's and the wizard making still more cuts inside of her body. Draco finally stared in fascination as a tiny wriggling body was lifted out. Large for a newborn baby, he though. Larger than... but still tiny for a little human being.

The baby was already crying as it- she, Draco noticed- was handed to the only competent young witch. Draco at least felt better about the Hufflepuff healer. Draco glanced back at Hermione to see that he eyes at least seemed to have relaxed. Her eyes met his before going to the corner where her baby was just outside of her sight. The still-crying baby was cleaned and wrapped in a pink blanket before, for some reason, being deposited in Draco Malfoy's arms. The other healers were still tending to Hermione's wounds. At least there was some part of this ordeal that magic could assist with. Hermione's eye's, however, locked on her tiny daughter, occasionally glancing up at Draco.

Hermione was released from the strange stunning spell once she wasn't bleeding from open wounds any longer. She was gasping and breathing heavily as she still looked, wordlessly, at her daughter.

One of the healers approached her with three potions in hand. "We're going to start the healing process, though some of it will wait until you are through breast feeding. Unless you don't plan on breastfeeding?" the man asked what Draco thought to be a very private question.

"No, I will," Hermione said a bit hoarsely.

"Well, it's still best if you were asleep for this part. Shifting bones back and regrowing some complicated muscles and tissues. We mostly let the potions speed up your body's normal process as you sleep," he explained.

Granger nodded, probably familiar with the whole process through research by now. She looked again at Draco and her daughter, "Will you stay with her? Her name is Rose," she said in a very small voice, not at all the voice Draco associated with the same Hermione Granger that punched him when they were children. She was a young mother, somehow alone, and facing having her child taken away from her, if only very temporarily by sleep.

"Yeah," Draco managed to say, at which point Hermione weakly and shakily grasped the offered potions and drained them slowly, ending with a sleeping potion that had her unconscious in moments.

"How long will she be out?" Draco asked, looking down at the slightly less loud baby now in his arms. _Rose_.

"An hour or two at the most. It would have been less if she hadn't had such a difficult delivery. We've had great improvements over the years. She'll be able to go home today," the man said, almost sounding proud, as if he were the ones that made those strides in healing magic, not just the one who helped administer it along with his atrocious bedside manner. Draco wasn't at all convinced that even the muggles didn't have something that looked less primitive.

"You can take the baby to the large room three doors to your right," the young female healer said. She'll be given a few potions before she can leave today, but she looks perfectly fine. She's a beautiful little girl," the healer said. "And so much hair for a baby," she smiled. It shouldn't have been a wonder to Draco that Granger's child would have a great deal of hair, but she did have to have a lot more than typical baby fuzz. It was over an inch long, thick and brown. Draco wondered absently if she would grow into the same… curls, if one could call them that, that her mother did.

Draco nodded, remembering to say a brief, "Thank you," to the bearable young healer before walking off as if in a trance to the instructed room.

When Draco arrived, he almost couldn't walk into the room. He hadn't planned on walking in here again. Why was he here? The healers knew. They were looking at him oddly. Staring at him holding a baby that they knew wasn't his. Everyone at this hospital needed to learn some fucking manners.

"Who is this?" one of the healers asked. This one he recognized in particular. She would know better than anyone that he didn't belong here.

"She's a- friend's. She's Rose- uh Weasley maybe, or Granger," Draco managed to say.

"Rose Granger, yes," the healer confirmed. "We were expecting her then," the woman said, taking the baby away, not as delicately as she should have. She turned almost apologetic, but it was too late now, far too late. "I am sorry about your son, sir," she said before administering some potions in injection form to the now loudly screaming baby. Draco felt that Rose was making the sounds that he just couldn't make anymore. He didn't have any screams or tears left.

Draco walked around for a while, hating that room but oddly unwilling to go far from baby Rose. It was only because he promised that he wouldn't. _Since when did he value something that he had told Granger?_ He continued to pace after the baby was awkwardly placed back into his arms. Rose. _Not his baby._ Her mother would be awake soon. He knew that he might as well wait there as anywhere else, but he could barely walk in the direction of the delivery room either. He walked the entire floor before returning to Granger's room. Life was out to cause him pain. The perfect little bundle in his arms cried softly until she fell asleep. Walking with the sleeping child was almost therapeutic, but not something that Draco tried to dwell on.

Granger was awake when he finally returned to her room. She smiled at him and looked at the now silent bundle. She held out her arms wordlessly, eyes wet but not crying. Draco handed her the child and sat down heavily in the chair next to her bed. _Why was he still here?_ It wasn't like he was wanted or needed. He watched mutely as Hermione looked down at her child, tears now falling from her eyes. New mothers weren't exactly renowned for their stability, and he felt a sudden worry for the child. It wasn't like he had any reason to, any right to... Granger would be fine- good at everything as always.

"Can you hold her- Rose- again for a minute?" Hermione asked as she tried to adjust herself into more of a sitting position. Draco would not have admitted that he was more than willing to hold the nearly silent bundle again. The little girl was awake again, but only fussing quietly. She had apparently worn herself out with her post-birth tantrum.

She spoke again, "Not that I'm not- I'm glad, grateful that you were here to look after Rose, but what are you doing here- Draco?" Draco could tell that she almost stumbled over his name. It hadn't been so long since he was strictly "Malfoy" and she was "Granger" or worse. She was still _Granger_, of course, he told himself.

"My son was born today," The young wizard spoke before he even realized what he was saying, giving voice to the pain that he had been trying to hide for the last several hours. He looked down at the tiny witch still in his arms. They were all so young; he was young. Too young to have felt this much hurt. The pain was never over. He had never suffered enough. _The war was more than enough, wasn't it? Or was that what he was being punished for?_

"Congratulations," Hermione smiled, though Draco wouldn't quite read her expression. Maybe he just wasn't familiar with friendliness.

"He- didn't make it. Something was not- formed correctly that they couldn't fix," Draco mumbled, staring only at the healthy, sleeping baby in his arms. "Damn magic not even good enough," Draco muttered, still trying to come to terms with the inadequacies of magic, which was not at all a familiar idea to him.

"I'm so sorry. How's- Astoria?" Hermione asked, clearly trying to think of something to say and probably trying to remember his wife's name.

"Gone," Draco said, the statement not hurting the way it probably should have.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," the former Gryffindor spoke earnestly. She was probably still too hormonal for any of this anyway. He felt that shouldn't be burdening her, but Draco dimly wondered why he would be caring about Hermione Granger's feelings anyway. _Her_ life didn't seem so bad, though she was here alone. Draco wasn't even sure why he was speaking, but he found himself almost laughing.

"She's not dead," Draco snorted, his tone reflecting the hollowness inside him. "She'll be at the ministry by this point with the divorce papers. She had me sign them before she even delivered. She'd done all that our contract entailed," Draco stated coldly. "Ours was not a marriage for love, and it wasn't exactly an agreement either of us had a say in in the first place, so I probably shouldn't blame her for it, though I do anyway. The contract was made before she was born actually. Getting rid of that sort of thing was one thing I'll admit that the muggles did right," Draco said, finally looking up at Hermione. He was mildly surprised that she hadn't even asked for her child back. She didn't even seem eager to jump on him for nearly complimenting muggles, but she wasn't that mean, at least not to him anymore.

_Why the hell was he telling her anything? _They weren't friends, barely neutral acquaintances, and only that after about two years of ignoring each other. After a series of court trials that Draco would try to forget, they were nothing but two people who could attend the same functions and speak civilly for a few moments if absolutely necessary before another available distraction presented itself. Neither had attempted any sort of voluntary association in the past.

"Well, I believe that I'm an example that marrying for so called love doesn't always work out either," Hermione said simply and with a tone of honestly.

Draco nodded, accepting the information, marveling at her returned frankness. Draco rather uncharitably was not surprised that the Weasel managed to mess something up, but he still would have expected at least a few red heads hanging around. And Potter.

A healer took that moment to come into the room, which Draco was glad for, as he couldn't think of anything to respond to Hermione's last statement without slipping into what his childhood self would have said.

"Well, you seem to be in fine health right now, but you should take it easy for several days. Even magic can only do so much, you know. If you have any bleeding or strong pain, come back here in an instant, alright?" the friendly woman asked.

Draco decided that it was probably best to hand Rose- the baby- back to her mother. He tried not to dwell on his hesitation. There was no reason to pretend he was attached just because he was troubled, mourning his own loss.

"I understand," the younger witch responded as she looked down to accept her baby. Draco thought that perhaps she didn't want to meet the healer's eye, but he really had no reason to imagine this insight.

"Do you have family to take you home?" the suddenly nosy witch questioned, looking at Draco.

Hermione faltered, "We've just let the flat go, so I've been staying in the Leaky Cauldron for a bit," Hermione said a bit embarrassed. "It's not the money or anything. I just haven't had time…"

An unasked-for sense of protectiveness was making the strange healer begin to grate on his nerves. "A- pub is not a good place for a baby, Miss," the insolent woman said.

It must have been the worried way Hermione bit her lip that made him speak even before he could think, "She can stay with me," Draco said, bringing all eyes to him. Draco thought that even the infant looked up at him, though he knew his mother had told him that babies couldn't see much of anything for a while, especially not so far away.

"That sounds perfect," the young healer said with a smile. "I don't know if I could approve you for release in good conscience without knowing that you'd be looked after. I'll be back in just a few minutes with the release papers for you and your daughter," she said.

Granger just stared at him, looking thoughtful or maybe confused, "You didn't have to say that," she said. "And I can be just fine finding my own place. I don't need to be a burden," she said.

"You should think about your little girl," Draco said softly, growing uncomfortable. _Why had he opened his mouth at all? Why was he not backing out now when the opportunity presented itself so easily?_

To his surprise, Hermione nodded. "If your offer is genuine, I will accept it, at least for a while. I mean, I don't want to be a bother though," she said gently, sounding as tired as a woman who just gave birth probably should.

"You wouldn't be," Draco assured her gently. _What the hell was wrong with him? Even if they could be civil, he shouldn't be- what?- caring for her and her child? Where were the Weasels?_

"Thank you," she said as the healer returned, handing Hermione papers. She grasped them in a few fingers as she held Rose. Draco awkwardly held out his hands to help, and was surprised when Hermione placed her child in his arms again. He was expecting to be handed the paperwork. But then again, it was Granger, and that was something to read. She looked just like she was still in school as she quickly read the sheets and signed her name with the quill offered. "What I wouldn't give for wizards to embrace the ball-point pen," she muttered before handing the sheets and quill back to the healer. The healer left promptly, smiling annoyingly.

"Could you- um," leave for a minute while I get dressed," Hermione asked Draco quietly. Draco noticed that she was still wearing the thin blue gown that the hospital provided to patients.

"Yeah," Draco said, and stepped outside with the child that wasn't his until Hermione called him back inside. She wore black robes that allowed plenty of loose fabric around her middle. Her gaze was downward at her hands, looking nervous or awkward.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Let's go," Draco said simply, leading her to the floo to head home- well, to his home anyway.

*****Draco*****

Malfoy spent the first ten minutes or so giving Hermione and baby Rose an extremely brief tour of the manor, conscious of her small steps and that, even with magical healing, the woman did give birth only a few hours ago.

Draco mostly just pointed to doors and hallways, "Sitting room, more sitting rooms or parlors or whatever that way. The kitchen, the dining room. There's a small ballroom through the big doors down that hallway, but it's never really used now. The master suite is that way, but it should be empty now too. Astoria would have sent for her things hours ago. The library is upstairs," he said, pausing and actually smiling at this one. He found himself hoping that she would be pleased with the library's selection.

"Upstairs now?" he asked, readjusting Rose in his arms and looking towards Hermione who was nodding lightly, though her eyes still roamed around the sitting room they had first arrived in. He supposed Granger would always need a chance to study everything.

"My room," he motioned to the door closest to the top of the staircase that he took. He even felt compelled to open the door and lead them inside for some reason. "Bathroom that way, and nursery next door," he motioned to a connecting door that they then walked through. He tried not to question what on earth would have compelled him to take Hermione Granger walking through his room. At least he kept it neat. He imagined the brainy girl didn't do well with messiness.

The nursery was decorated in typical baby colors, mostly soft yellows and greens, which somehow passed for gender neutral in the minds of decorators. His mother had designed the room long ago and had updated it for him when they first learned about the baby. Stuffed animals lined the walls, perhaps with a few extra snakes and absolutely no lions, but there were also cats, owls, and unicorns in the collection, among a vast variety of others. Draco would not admit it to Granger, but he had enjoyed buying a few little toys whenever he found the time. When he looked down at little Rose, his heart didn't ache quite as badly. At least maybe she would enjoy some of them.

"It's perfect," Hermione said quietly.

A white crib stood in the middle of the room, along with tables and typical baby supplies. Though Draco never saw them, never tried to see them, he knew the elves took special care with this room.

"You can pick out any room you like, and I will make sure that your things arrive there shortly," Draco motioned out the door where several doors to other rooms lined the hallway. "When Mother visits, she uses a room further down the hall, but I don't expect her very soon," Draco stated.

"I have most of my things with me, but thank you," Hermione said, motioning to a small beaded bag on her arm. At Draco's raised eyebrow she explained, "Some extension and feather light charms. It is quite useful," Hermione explained. "I haven't really fully unpacked in years. Maybe not since Hogwarts," she said quietly.

"Just- ask if you need any help," he offered, knowing that Hermione Granger wouldn't ask. He put the small, sleeping child in the crib, and watched her for several full minutes of silence before turning to return to his rooms. He looked up to see Hermione standing near the other door, the one to the hallway, staring at him and nodding when he looked up at her before she slipped into the hallway, presumably to choose a room for herself.

Draco let the mother and small child spend the day by themselves, with Draco taking care of some accumulated post and business matters in his room. He checked on Rose occasionally, both when she was in the nursery and when Hermione had taken her roaming around the house. He was most definitely checking on the newborn and not the mother- the strange combination of childhood enemy, or rival, or whatever and now new house guest. Some things just shouldn't be too closely examined.

Draco briefly tracked down an elf to tell it- him- he thought the elf was a "him" anyway- about Hermione and Rose with as few details as possible, only to say that they were to be respected and brought food or anything else they needed. And that baby bottles and whatever baby supplies would be appreciated. The little elf seemed extraordinarily pleased and nodded a lot, saying that he would see to them personally. Draco spent the remainder of the day in his room, telling himself that he wasn't hiding and that no one could see a Malfoy cry.

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading. If you want to read more of my stuff, you can check out my completed HP fic, a Hermione/Remus story. I have been working on a few stories, when all of the sudden, this story simply demanded to be written. I'm filling in a lot of gaps now and fleshing out a few details. I hope you enjoy reading the story, and please review if you like it. Updates will be weekly on Friday or Saturday, though they might sometimes be more often when I get really excited. Positive reviews make me excited- *wink wink*.**


	2. Getting to Know You Again

Chapter 2- Getting to Know You Again

_Of course she would be in the library_. He should have looked there first. _Not that he was looking for Hermione Granger_, Draco told himself firmly. He was just wandering around a bit and was merely curious that he hadn't run into Granger sooner. She hadn't been in her room, the nursery, the sitting room, or the kitchen, which Draco might have happened to wander past first. He found her curled up in his own favorite arm chair with Rose in one arm and a heavy book in her lap, turning a page carefully with her free hand. Draco smiled indulgently before he wiped it from his face and cleared his throat softly.

Hermione looked like she would jump out of her seat. Perhaps she would have if she hadn't still been conscious of her small daughter and the old-looking book in her lap. A nervous looking smile spread across her face.

"I hope you don't mind. You have a very lovely library. I can assure you that I was being very careful. And Rose isn't touching any of them. But of course, I won't read them if it bothers you," the Gryffindor bookworm said, though she didn't look happy about the prospect.

"What are you reading?" Draco asked casually, not responding to her unasked question.

Granger seemed surprised by the question, but she quickly looked excited to talk about whatever she had been reading. It made sense, Draco admitted. She wasn't likely to have very often had someone decent to talk to. She had never mixed in intellectual circles, to say the least. Though Draco couldn't really accuse her, since his school companions had been significantly more impared than the Gryffindor lot, even Longbottom, though Draco would never go as far as to admit that last fact.

Hermione bubbled a reply as Draco tore himself from his thoughts, "I've skimmed through several books on charms, though I'd like to get a better look later, if you let me. I'm working on my mastery right now. Mostly through correspondence at the moment, but that's okay," she said, looking down at Rose. "I would also love to look at your law books, if you don't mind," Hermione prompted.

Draco waved a hand and nodded.

"Does that mean you trust me with your books?" Hermione asked.

Draco couldn't help but give a little smirk, "I don't believe there is a person in the world more trustworthy with books. I'm not sure there was anything on this earth that you loved more until Rose."

Hermione smiled, but with a sad look. Draco was instantly cursing himself, wondering what oversight he had made. It had actually been intended as some form of compliment, though he wasn't sure what had possessed him to attempt any such a thing anyway.

"I was always a daddy's girl," Hermione spoke softly. Draco hardly even thought of her as 'Granger' anymore, though he tried to remind himself frequently that they weren't friends or anything of the sort.

_Damn_. He hadn't expected that. What kind of person just started spouting out their _soul_ after a harmless statement, a non-negative statement even? Okay, so perhaps it wasn't actually much of a compliment, but it was at least a neutral statement, right? For such a bookworm. Draco certainly wasn't equipped to deal with anyone else's dysfunctional family issues. Not that Hermione's- Granger's- problems would be his problems anyway. Still, he told himself that he shouldn't be a total arse about it after the lead in that she gave him.

"Where- are you parents?" Draco asked finally, attempting to be delicate. He hadn't heard about them being killed in the war, and Draco felt sure that he would have at one memorial or another. Draco and his mother had been to most of them, in an attempt to appear caring, if often for no other reason. There was only the one memorial that Draco went to other than for publicity or guilt, that of Severus Snape. However, the Malfoy name was in gentle balance, and any positive exposure had been necessary.

"I'm not sure really," Hermione said, surprising Draco. Of all things, he hadn't expected that. "I sent them away you know, before we went off horcrux hunting. I wiped their memories and put in new ones. So they'd be happy while I was gone and okay if I- didn't come back. But it isn't supposed to be forever, just needing some reversal work," she said quickly. "I researched a lot before doing anything, of course, and I even talked through a lot of the theory with Professor Flitwick, without giving him any reasons to be too suspicious," she said, breathing deeply. "I made sure they knew that they had to leave their house. I made them think that it was their dream to go to Australia, but I didn't want to know exactly where they were going. It was safer that way. That way even if I was captured, they couldn't be found and used against me," Hermione said in a rush. "But I don't even know for sure if they even went to Australia or where they might be now. I didn't really think it through completely, I guess, but there was so much going on, and I just wanted them safe," the young woman spoke, increasingly upset and defensive of her rather impressive actions.

The witch breathed deeply, and Draco tried to give her a moment to collect herself. It was certainly a _Gryffindor_ plan on her part, but he supposed it could have turned out worse. They probably weren't dead, and that was likely more than could have been said of them if Hermione hadn't taken any action. That year had been pure madness- so insane that even at the time, Draco Malfoy even knew that it was terrible. Muggleborns were being hunted, and muggles were thought of as even worse.

Hermione spoke on tirelessly, though she looked like she was losing a battle with her eyes to stop the tears, "And then for a while I wasn't sure when everything was calm enough to find them, but really I think I didn't want to admit that I didn't even know where to start. I went on a trip about a year ago, but I couldn't make any tracing spells work. I think their former belongings that I used in the spells didn't register as theirs anymore, and those type of spells are always spotty at best anyway. Kingsley contacted some Ministry officials in Austrailia, but so far there have been no leads," Hermione said with a tone of finality.

"Sorry," Draco muttered, unsure of what else to say in such an emotional setting.

"Where are your parents?" Hermione asked quietly, startling Draco out of his thoughts.

"France ," Draco replied, a bit more sharply than he intended. "The family has two estates there actually. Having some spare old houses is not uncommon for traditional families dwindling in size over the generations. Father is not allowed back into the country here for a few more years, per the- agreement- that was reached when he was not forced to go to Azkaban." Draco was actually surprised that Hermione had not already known that. Golden Boy Potter testified at the hearing himself after all. Always the bloody hero, not that Draco actually minded too much in that case. Family first and grudges second.

"Oh," Hermione, replied, strangely seeming to be at a loss for words.

Draco meandered off away from the library after a few moments of silence, thinking about any contacts he might be able to reach in Australia. He could probably swipe some hair from her brush or something later, which wouldn't be difficult with her mane. _Not that he needed to do anything_ _or that he ever would._ It wasn't his problem after all. Someone else would help the Golden Gryffindor Girl out, surely?

*****Draco*****

Days passed with Hermione still at Malfoy Manor, seemingly happily. Rose was growing quickly and seemed quiet enough for a baby, sleeping more than half the day. Perhaps she was just under the impression that she was supposed to be nocturnal.

Draco left Hermione alone for the most part, but he did observe her rapidly settling into the manor as if it were her own. Draco didn't comment on any of her actions until he walked into the library one day and saw Rose evidently asleep in his chair and her mother standing on another chair to rearrange books in his library. His first reaction was to not care what she did with the books, before the slightly possessive Slytherin voice took over to remind him that this witch was rifling through _Malfoy family_ books.

Rather than address the current issue of slight posessiveness, Draco blurted a question that had been bothering him for a while, even though he knew that he had no right to ask, "What happened with you and Weasel?" Draco asked boldly.

Hermione seemed in a good mood and unbothered by the question. She also didn't stop moving his books. "It was pretty mutual, I think. I stopped watching him, and he may have glanced at a few other women. I mean, not that he would cheat, but we just weren't anything together anymore. I know it doesn't seem like a very good reason when we made wedding vows. We should never have been married in the first place, to be honest. We just weren't ready. He was still eighteen, you know. I was barely nineteen. It was such a rush that the papers said I must have been pregnant. I wasn't, of course. We never really even got to have real childhoods before we were suddenly adults, thinking about finishing school or starting careers." Hermione sighed and looked over at her now slightly squirming daughter. "I think we became a couple halfway because everyone expected us to," Hermione stated, looking up at Draco as if seeking understanding. Draco graced her with a grudging nod. He of all people could understand bending to expectations, especially of those close to him.

"I can't really blame him much. I'm probably far worse in the long run. We split up just as I was finding out about Rose, and I wanted to make sure that the divorce still happened. I didn't even tell him for a few weeks. He handed over custody willingly; he knew he wasn't ready even if I was stupid enough to think that I was. But I talked him out of all of his parental rights as well. I convinced him to just sign them all away. I didn't even have the courage to tell the rest of the family about all of that. I haven't seen them in months even though Harry and Ginny send me letters often more than once a week. I don't know what they even manage to write about, because I can't make myself read half of them. I need everything _separate_ though. According to the law, Rose is no more a Weasley than you are. I know that Ron might grow up more in a year or two and regret it. I think he will, honestly, but I won't let him have her," Hermione said, glancing toward the chair again that held her small child. Draco walked over and picked Rose up, before the little girl managed to squirm her way into falling off the chair. The movement also bought him some time to attempt to respond.

Draco rummaged through his brain for something that was perhaps not too insulting to Weasley, but certainly not defending him. Hermione still seemed to hope to be the Weasel's friend again or something. Not that Draco Malfoy would care. Draco thought through this mental filter, wondering also what made him care about what the Gryffindor Princess thought. Perhaps his life would have been better though if he had learned years earlier to think before he spoke. "Well, you can't grow old waiting for something than might never even happen," Draco settled on softly.

_What else could he even say? _Nothing distracted Hermione Granger like new knowledge, so he continued, "Divorce isn't very common in our world, but surrendering of rights is usually done in those cases. That had been... the agreement in my case as well." Draco admitted but continued quickly, "It was actually more commonly done to give an heir with the family name of a line that had only daughters and did not want to simply merge with another old family. The- offspring would keep the mother's name and have no ties to the biological father's family."

Draco thought of some of his pureblood friends as he continued to speak, "The Greengrass family had such a contract in line for Daphne in case marital _issues_ were to arise. In the case of divorce, the first child would be named a Greengrass and any subsequent would be Zabini's. I imagine that took quite a bit of negotiation for that little clause. However, she and Blaise seem well suited enough that they have not wanted to break their marriage," Draco rattled off to his captive audience. Hermione Granger was still eager for almost any knowledge, and these sorts of things were old pureblood traditions that generally would not have been written in any book, or at least any that Granger was likely to acquire.

Hermione nodded, "That all sounds, rather logical, I suppose. Though I'd like to think I was a romantic at heart, I'm not sure that I am," Hermione said vaguely. "I'm still not sure that- Ron and I would have been married at all except that I didn't want to-," Hermione faltered slightly. "I didn't want to have sex before marriage," she finished, not looking at Draco anymore.

"That's expected in pureblood circles," Draco offered, taking in the new information and trying to keep any emotion off of his face. He probably shouldn't be thinking that much about Granger, and he certainly didn't want to think about his own past. "Though it might not be something _his_ family cared about. Even though they were never really part of the old society crowd, I understand that it caused quite a stir when Molly Prewett had a rushed marriage followed by a child less than eight months later," Draco gossiped lightly, "I believe she was still a Hogwarts seventh year at the wedding in fact."

"Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked surprised.

"Yes, well, the old circles thrive on gossip that asserts themselves as better than everyone else, even other purebloods. As I understand it, the Prewetts, mainly her grandfather, I believe, had a contract for her with a different man, and she wished to make other plans- ah- _necessary_ instead. With a baby on the way. Almost a Slytherin move really," Draco laughed.

"Funny, I don't believe Mrs. W- Molly- would find that to be a compliment," Hermione laughed.

"Well, some people need to learn appreciation for their own valuable skills," Draco insisted. "She got what she wanted, didn't she?"

"I suppose she did. That's quite a lot of children though," Hermione commented. "They didn't _have_ to keep trying so hard after the first," she laughed.

Draco only shrugged, trying not to think too much about children. The idea of so many little ones running around didn't sound as repulsive as he wished it did. Perhaps even the Weasleys did a few things correctly.

*****Draco*****

Daily life at the Manor continued with only Hermione finding something troubling. "How can she be tired? How can she sleep most of the day? She sleeps straight through the night! I never even hear a sound right across the hall, and I always leave the doors open," Hermione said, bordering on desperation.

"Granger, have you ever heard of a newborn sleeping through the night?" Draco asked calmly. "You needed your sleep," he commented, slightly gruffly.

"I wouldn't _ignore_ my own daughter," Hermione said defensively. "I should put up some sensory charms at least, just to be sure. I can't believe that I haven't already," she mumbled, probably at least halfway to herself.

"She's been fine, Hermione. I wouldn't be asleep anyway," Draco said, looking anywhere except at the witch in front of him.

Draco could actually hear Hermione's head snap towards him, "You- stay up with her?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Yes... I didn't think you'd mind. You really did need the rest," Draco stated, looking at the light green and yellow walls of the room.

Hermione was silent for a tense moment. "Every night?" she asked, sounding surprised. "I don't- mind. Thank you," she said, seeming to process the situation faster. Hermione seemed shy, as if she was the one who was acting creepy, not the grown man staying awake most of the night with someone else's infant. But it was true enough that he wouldn't sleep much anyway. At least he could be doing something productive instead of simply waiting for the nightmares. When he was exhausted enough, sleep came more easily. "I'd like to be up with her tonight though," Hermione said softly. "You are welcome to be there too," she said, looking down at the sleeping baby. "I- feel like such a bad mother for not thinking about that earlier," Hermione said.

Draco felt an uncomfortable guilt settle in his chest, but at least the girl had gotten some rest. She seemed stable, as far as new mothers went, and he privately thought he played a large part in that. "You're not a bad mother," Draco said softly. "She'll grow up to love you very much," Draco said. "I'm going to go see about food," he said, trying to walk casually to the door before tears could reach his eyes. Malfoy men didn't cry so easily.

**A/N: I know it's shorter than the last chapter, but this was a nice breaking point, and all of the other chapters should be longer. I just wanted to show a few scenes that stuck out to me as they lived in Malfoy Manor together. I hope people enjoy! I hope you enjoy the next chapter too, because I'm certainly nervous about it. There will definitely be a lot of progress next week.**


	3. Really Seeing for the First Time

Chapter 3- Really Seeing for the First Time

Draco awoke unwillingly, trying to cling to dreams of a warm, soft woman with masses of wild brown hair. He awoke, instead, to the now familiar soft cries through the open door in the side of his room. Draco was not as used to hearing the soft mutterings of Hermione Granger accompanying the young child's cries.

Draco walked to the door and smiled at the clearly frustrated young mother trying to bottle feed her protesting infant.

Hermione turned to Draco when he entered. She looked a bit desperate. "If she'll take the bottle for you, why won't she for me? She's never refused- to breastfeeding before. Does my baby hate me now?" The young woman asked, her increasing frustration seemingly overruling embarrassment, at least at the time.

"May I?" Draco asked, reaching out for the small child and the bottle. Hermione stared at him helplessly as she handed over her child and watched as Rose settled down and began to drink.

"Why?" Hermione asked, emotion clear on her pretty face.

Draco could not stop himself from smiling, wider than his customary smirk, "I believe she likes skin contact and the feel of a heart beat," Draco said. The child was settled against his bare torso and drinking heartily from the bottle that an elf must have prepared. "You can't expect a newborn to fully appreciate your dressing gown, however lovely it might be."

Draco allowed his eyes to openly scan her figure as he rubbed Rose's tiny back gently. His eyes lingered over Hermione's bust line, which had undoubtedly been smaller when the gown was originally purchased. The gown was pretty, if a bit childish or old fashioned in the cut, covering far too much skin for Draco's liking. It had sleeves down to her wrist and a hemline down to her knees. She even wore sleeping pants underneath. However, at least a bra must have been deemed unneeded, and she didn't wear a robe over the thin gown as he would have thought that Hermione Granger would have. He allowed himself to enjoy the rather domestically pleasing view.

Draco returned his eyes to hers to see Hermione Granger performing a similar scan. Her eyes lingered on the Dark Mark still faintly visible on his arm, causing Draco to wince internally. Nothing could be done about that, as far as Draco could tell. He noticed her eyes lingering perhaps even longer though on his shirtless chest that her daughter still rested against, drinking happily.

Draco decided to push his luck further. "I would certainly not protest if you would like to test this theory now," Draco smiled into Hermione's eyes before looking back down at the baby, removing the bottle from her tiny lips and placing a cloth on his bare shoulder that he grabbed from the table next to her crib. He patted Rose gently until she burped and spit in the way babies do. Draco hadn't thought possible for everything a baby did to be completely adorable until little Rose Granger.

He turned back to Hermione after a moment of letting her ponder his words. He wouldn't push her any harder. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to tease her on the subject at all. _And surely it had just been a tease_. He looked up to see her still and standing up very straight, reminiscent of Draco's earliest memory of Hermione Granger. She had little girl trying to help a hopeless case boy, Longbottom, find a toad, not knowing anything about social order in the wizarding world. She had held herself in such a proud way that he had thought she must be a pureblood, because eleven-year-old Draco couldn't understand how anyone else could stand up so straight, so proud of herself. Draco suddenly hoped that he hadn't been the cause of future slumping of shoulders. The improved posture doing further wonders to her current bust line, discernible outlines of large, hard nipples right there for Draco to see. Her chin held up looked defiant, though her eyes seemed so vulnerable. He would leave if she asked him to.

"I'm not some leggy blond twig," Hermione said quietly.

Draco looked across at the woman in front of him trying to not show any real emotion. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling anyway, but he was a bit confused by her statement. What did she see? "I never really liked blond women," Draco countered. "It's such a _fake_ looking color, isn't it?" Draco said, somewhat ironically for the natural blond to say. "Too much like my mother's perhaps. Hers is fake, you know. It's from spells and foul smelling potions that Uncle Severus would bring over."

"Uncle Severus?" Hermione asked, clearly curiosity having won out over nerves.

"When we weren't in school, yes, he was Uncle Severus. Not a blood relative of course. He was my godfather though, and I had known him for all of my life," Draco spoke softly, his mind tracing back to old memories, and his vision roaming across the room without any focus. Draco was brought back to reality by the sounds of the shifting of fabric. He looked up to see Hermione biting her lip adorably before the fabric covered her head and was swiftly flung to the floor.

Draco snapped his eyes up to hers, shocked that she would actually take off the gown anywhere near his presence. He could not help but let his eyes wander over her bare form- uncovered from above the waist at least. She still wore damned baggy long sleeping pants. Draco was concentrating a bit higher. Her breasts looked full and heavy, weighed down by mother's milk. Large, erect, dark pink nipples stood out farther than seemed possible. He could see light pink stretch marks around her breasts, evidence that her figure had recently benefited considerably from her pregnancy and nursing motherhood. Her breasts had always been on the smaller side when they were in school, though Draco didn't know how his mind had even registered such a thing about one of his school rivals.

Her stomach, already drastically smaller than it had been in the hospital just days ago, had the telling loose skin hanging from a lightly rounded belly. If honest, he might have assumed she was in the third or fourth month of pregnancy judging by the size of the small roundness. Draco tried unsuccessfully to push aside the sudden wish that he had seen her like this with her belly swollen with late pregnancy. Draco had only focused on the desire for a child before, not the incredible beauty of a pregnant mother. _Not that he was likely to have ever thought of his former wife in that way no matter what she looked like_. More vibrant stretch marks stood out here against Hermione's pale stomach, as well as a mark could be seen where the healers had to actually cut her open to remove Rose. Weasley was unquestionably an idiot, but Draco wasn't one to complain.

"Can you not- stare?" Hermione asked in a tone that seemed to be attempting bossiness but mixed with audible vulnerability. "I know it's not pretty..." she spoke softly.

Draco's eyes had wandered back to her full breasts. "Granger," Draco spoke, hating the almost creak in his voice, not daring or even wanting to meet her eyes. He wasn't sure if he could have torn them away if he tried. "If you think you have _anything_ to be ashamed of, then I don't think we're looking at the same body."

"Thank you," came the voice from a foot above where Draco's gaze rested. While staring, Draco had shifted a step or two to the left so that that from below the waist he was behind the small changing table, hiding the otherwise very evident and rapidly hardening erection that he should probably be feeling guilty about. He was possibly perverted in some way, to be ogling the young mother that was strangely under his care. He would later blame tiredness, but he was quite content to stare as the uncomfortable witch began nursing. He knew he must be horribly depraved for watching with such intent, knowingly allowing at least vaguely sexual thoughts, but it all made a beautiful picture. His heart ached slightly more even than his now fully expanded and throbbing cock. He did ease his guilt slightly with a glance and the young witch's face. She was flushed a pretty shade of pink that trailed down her neck, but her chin was slightly raised, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. She _liked_ the attention, he thought. He resumed staring openly for another moment before he closed his slightly open mouth and pried his eyes away when he imagined how he must look. He could barely believe that his mouth had actually dropped open while watching, perhaps from the moment that she had dropped her gown onto the floor.

Draco immediately wished he had stayed focused on her breasts instead of casually glancing to the side at her arm. All sexual thoughts vanished from his mind. "I'm so sorry," Draco spoke, gaze not reaching her eyes.

Hermione looked confused, and Draco saw the faint blush again on her face when he glanced up. "I'm fine, Draco, just a little embarrassed, but you've been very-"

"For taking you here, I'm so sorry. I should have thought. We could go to a house in France instead," Draco offered quickly. "We should have. I should have thought. I'm sorry," Draco struggled. He had never apologized so often or so earnestly in his entire life. He grasped the table in front of him tightly, steadying himself.

"What are you talking about, Draco? I'm fine here. It's very- nice of you to have us," Hermione assured him.

Draco interrupted, his mind reeling, "Those marks- on your arm- you got them here, didn't you? From Aun- from that _bitch,_ Bellatrix? I'm sorry, but I guess I just tried so hard to forget," Draco said as Hermione stood in silence. He stepped closer, absently appreciative that his lower half had received the message that he was now far more concerned with matters other than sexual appeal.

Draco tentatively put his arms out to touch the young woman and child. "Let me take you to France. I'll destroy this whole damn house if you want. I can't believe I can even stand it. HE stayed here after all. I just don't think about it, if I can help it. I try to forget the whole thing, those two years of my life, but I should have thought," Draco said, now leaning into her beautiful wavy mane. She had mastered some technique to turn it into manageable curls during the day, when she bothered with it, but it was currently a glorious mess. Draco tried to think of anything except the fading marks that read "mudblood" on Hermione's arm.

"I'm fine here, Draco," Hermione said in a surprisingly strong voice. Draco buried his head further into Hermione's mane, glad and surprised that she wasn't yet pushing him away. She couldn't _possibly_ be fine. _He_ certainly wasn't. "Though I wouldn't mind visiting France. I've been a few times, and I rather like France, but I'm fine here, really. I- guess there are a few rooms that I wouldn't want to spend a lot of time in, but that's silly, really, and I'm fine," she insisted.

Draco stood, arms curled around Hermione and Rose, knowing he didn't deserve this, whatever this was, or anything like it. "She needs to be burped before she falls asleep," Draco reminded her, trying to stop tears from entering his eyes. He was glad that no one from Slytherin could see him. He somehow still knew that the perfect little Gryffindor witch wouldn't hold tears against him, even though she had every reason to hate him.

"You're very good with children," Hermione commented lightly.

"Aunt Andromeda lets me help with Teddy sometimes. I thought of it as penance at first, before growing fond of the little guy," Draco said.

Hermione took the cloth Draco offered from his shoulder and patted Rose gently. She addressed again what they were both still thinking about, "I've never tried to make the scars go away. They were long since healed before I saw a proper healer, being still on the run after all that, and there were so many other, more important, things going on. Madame Pomfrey and other healers have recommended some potions and creams, but I've never bothered. Ron was always telling me to get it fixed. But- I don't know," she hesitated before speaking again, "It reminds me that I made it through, I guess. That I didn't betray my friends even when it was difficult. I'd never faced a test like that before, and I wasn't at all sure how I would do, even when it was happening. Maybe that's silly. I know it's- _disfiguring_. Ron didn't like to look at it, I think. And it's not like I even did very much to be proud of. Harry did a lot more and-"

"No. You're so strong- Hermione," Draco interrupted her. "I was always weak."

"You didn't tell on us either," Hermione insisted. "I know you must have recognized Harry. Everything would have been so much worse if- Voldemort- were there too."

Draco tried not to wince to much at the Dark L- at You-Know-Who's name. It was the least that he could do. He shook his head resolutely. "That house elf- the one that saved you all- I guess you must know, but his name was Dobby, and I probably wasn't very nice to him as a child. He worked for my family. I mean- I didn't _tell_ him to hurt himself, but I knew that he did. He hurt himself often for every little thing, and my father was upset often in those years and encouraged it sometimes. But Dobby did more just to himself. I did try to make him stop a several times, but I just gave up. I mean, he was an odd one, not that it makes it any better. I should have done more. And he didn't make it, in the end, did he?" Draco asked, tears finally falling now, thinking of the little house elf.

"He was a brave friend of ours," Hermione said solemnly. "But yes, he was a bit odd."

"I can't look at any of them now, the elves," Draco admitted. "I know they still cook and clean. They even leave bottles here in the nursery just before I need them, but I just try to avoid them entirely. You can talk to them and do whatever you want, though I don't think they'd like to be sent away. I would if I thought it would make them happier, and I will ask you not to upset them. They seem to like Rose though. But if they _wanted_ to go… I don't- even care about this place being clean or being anything. And I could make my own food. Can't be any different than potions, except nothing explodes usually if you mess up, right?" Draco rambled on, trying to lighten his own mood, or at least think less.

Hermione nodded. "Can you hold her?" Hermione asked, handing over Rose, who was evidently full by now and looking very relaxed and significantly less fussy.

Without even meaning to, Draco smiled a small smile as he looked down at the little girl.

"I'm not afraid of the Department of Mysteries, and I was hurt there," Hermione said, in a voice that was trying very hard to sound light-hearted. Hermione was not one to be distracted from a conversation for long, and she had a way of skipping quickly from one conversation back to a previous one with her quick thoughts. Draco had become fairly skilled at following her in their relatively brief time together. "I might like to work there actually, or in magical law. I haven't yet decided. Saint Mungo's couldn't even make that scar go away. I asked, years ago," Hermione said as she slowly bent down to pick up her gown. Draco felt that the best thing to do was divert his eyes, though that compulsion had been nowhere to be seen earlier.

"What scar?" Draco asked, trying to keep his eyes now locked on hers.

Hermione clutched her gown in her hands as her face assumed an annoyed expression that reminded him strongly again of their school days. "As if you hadn't just been staring at it," she nearly hissed before pursing her lips together and closing her eyes.

Draco raised an eyebrow, sure that he had done no such thing.

"Right here," Hermione pointed just above her breasts, sounding a bit exasperated. Draco looked and for the first time noticed the slight purpled discoloration. It looked like a raised, structured rope-like bruise, which Draco probably should have noticed before. He noticed absently that it focused above her heart and a few stray tendrils ghosted onto her full left breast. Draco could not resist letting his eyes drift once more over the perfect globes.

Draco closed his eyes briefly, attempting to convince his lower regions to cooperate. "I'm a _man_, Granger. I can assure you that I wasn't staring at your little scar," he said, hoping that he wasn't visibly blushing. Malfoys didn't _blush_. It was quite unfortunate when they did, with his inherited pale features.

"Oh," Hermione said softly. She put back on her gown more slowly than Draco would have expected before reaching for her daughter again. In his distress, Draco had actually stopped noticing her beautiful figure, but those moments were over once he was assured that Hermione was relatively okay. He really had issues if he could forget about that body, even for a moment.

"And I might talk to the house elves tomorrow if you really don't mind, Draco, but we're all fine here. Really. I don't even know how to thank you for all of this," she said as she leaned over and put her daughter back in the crib. It was a sturdy white thing, the same one Draco had used as a child, thought he hadn't mentioned that detail. "Isn't she cute?" Hermione whispered. "I hope her years at Hogwarts are easier than ours," she said, looking up at Draco with a smile, no hint of malice. As if _he_ hadn't been one of the people making her Hogwarts years more difficult.

"They will be," Draco said firmly. He would _not_ think about anything ever happening to this little girl. He knew it was an irrational protectiveness, but he simply wouldn't allow anything bad happen to her, if he could do anything to prevent it. He had already sworn that to himself after just a few nights of holding the little girl as she slept. Sometimes Draco wouldn't even put her back in her crib and would just hold her for hours as she slept.

Hermione nodded. "We should- probably let her sleep. I'd bet she won't be out for long," she smiled, now staring at Draco's door before glancing at the door she would take back into the hallway.

"Three hours if we are lucky," Draco admitted. It was usually closer to two, though Rose had been kept awake longer than usual in this exchange. Perhaps the little girl would sleep a bit longer this time.

Draco found thin arms wrapped tightly around his chest and meeting behind his back. He was instantly reminded again of the beautiful woman under the thin gown. "Thank you," she murmured into his still exposed shoulder. "I wouldn't have made it through this without my sleep. I'm still not sure if I can do it yet," she admitted.

"Let me handle the next one," Draco stated, hands unconsciously running up and down her back and nose nuzzled again into her slightly wiry hair. Such things didn't feel as strange in the middle of the night after putting a baby to sleep.

"Is that okay?" Hermione asked, looking up at him but not pulling away. "Does that not make me a bad mother?" she questioned, still in a whisper.

Draco chucked softly, barely believing that this woman was still somehow in his arms. _Who would have ever thought that he would want Hermione Granger to be in his arms?_ _Did he want that?_ What was wrong with him? Was he hugging Granger? Draco couldn't even summon the enthusiasm to try to fool himself into disgust. Draco wasn't sure if anything had ever felt better than her arms gently held around him.

"Not at all. Now go to sleep," he finally answered, impulsively kissing the young woman's forehead before gently turning Hermione around and directing her towards the door that led into the hall. "You know where to find me if you need me," Draco whispered. "My door is always open for you." _Please, don't let that sound creepy_, he thought.

Hermione turned her head backwards, but stopped before turning all the way to him again. She nodded and walked, slightly falteringly, out the door.

Draco peeked over into the crib again before returning to his own bed. He placed a few charms to ensure that he would hear the baby's cries but Hermione wouldn't. Life was certainly a strange thing, but still, somehow, Draco didn't feel like complaining.

**A/N: I am so unbelievably nervous about this chapter. Please review. Please. I **_**love**_** the image of Hermione dissatisfied with her appearance and Draco finding her beautiful. Even "bookworms" like Hermione, and like myself, care about their appearance and perception, even if we try to pretend that we don't care what anyone thinks.**


	4. Outside Eyes

Chapter 4- Outside Eyes

*****Hermione*****

The three of them had fallen into comfortable companionship over the last weeks. Hermione had increased her own personal charms research and efforts at spell creation, hoping that she could sit for her mastery within the year if her spells turned out according to plan. She was currently working on an interesting project combining some difficult charms work with transfiguration. Hermione thought she might try to show it to the now _Headmistress_ McGonagall before submitting the work, if the older witch could find the time to meet with a former student. Hermione had been fascinated with spell creation since sixth year, and if a certain used potions text book that she clearly disapproved of had anything to do with that interest, she would admit it to no one but herself.

Hermione tried not to take Draco for granted as he looked after Rose every night. If she wasn't particularly tired, she would ask him to make sure she woke up as well, but Draco was always there as she nursed, and she never made him go away. She sometimes felt like she was asking permission to stay up with her own child, but it didn't bother her. If she would admit it, she was glad of the structure he provided. He never let her wake up more than twice in a night, even though she was fairly certain that Rose woke more often. Rose would at least usually go back to sleep quickly.

Hermione knew the way that Draco would look at her, especially as she nursed, but she wasn't at all sure what to do about it. Could he possibly think of her like- _that_? As what- _sexy_? _Maybe_? No one ever had before, not like that. Not even Ron, and they had been married, for goodness sake! The only other time she had even been on what could possibly be called a date was with Victor Krum when she was only fifteen. She always thought that Krum was more drawn to her because she didn't treat him as some otherworldly being. Besides, they had never shared more than a goodnight kiss. Draco looked at her differently. As if the stretch marks and the scars didn't matter as much as they should have. As if he somehow didn't notice that her hair was terrible, and that her face wasn't as pleasant as many of the other young women that they knew. Not as pretty as most of them if she were honest with herself. But Draco could make her forget that. He could make her stand up straighter and be a little happier with herself.

She found herself pushing out her breasts a little further, more proudly, having better posture than she had had since second or third year when every other girl got her breasts and it was evident that her own wouldn't grow to even fill her own small hand. At least they were bigger now, though still not as big as Lavender's. Goodness, she was _terrible_, jealous of a girl that _died_ defending Hogwarts. She wasn't even jealous because of anything to do with Ron, but just because the girl had been graced with a more pleasant arrangement of body fat. _How shallow and cruel was she to think of something like that_? It sometimes felt like only Draco could make her feel better, a dangerous attachment when she was already imposing on his generosity.

Hermione tried to clear her thoughts and found herself wishing for just his comfortable presence. "Draco," Hermione called, leaving the kitchen. He was probably upstairs in his room or with the baby- _her baby_, that is- Rose.

Hermione stopped abruptly in the main sitting room at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy. The nightgown that she had deemed acceptable to walk around in now seemed woefully thin. Hermione wouldn't look down, but she hoped that it at least wasn't covered in milk leakings, though she knew that even that was too much to hope for. She wasn't even wearing proper undergarments, because _Merlin_, they were uncomfortable and terribly inconvenient. She had no idea what to say, and evidently the Malfoy matriarch didn't either, so both women stared at each other for a few moments.

Narcissa, Mrs. Malfoy, was looking at her understandably oddly with a raised eyebrow, and Hermione could hardly blame her. She didn't think Draco would be one to have strange women around his house, and she also knew that she didn't exactly look like the type that anyone would want around anyway. "I'm Hermione Granger- a- ah friend of Draco's. He's been helping me and my daughter," she tried to explain, blushing madly. Her entire presence in this house seemed entirely ridiculous, even to her own ears if she questioned it closely. It had not been so long ago since the two of them were sworn enemies. Had a few short years of not actually hating each other bridged some gap that made in conceivable for Draco Malfoy to invite the muggleborn Hermione Granger into his home?

"Excuse my manners," Narcissa began, tight lipped. Hermione thought that she looked anything but apologetic, but she at least had high society manners. "I was just informed by my _house elf_ of all sources that my grandson was delivered prematurely and that he never came home, but that another woman and different child returned instead." Narcissa took a deep breath and looked more beaten down than anything else. "Can you explain this?" she asked more softly, closing her eyes. The older woman slipped for a moment, looking like a picture of sadness before regaining the calm façade.

"I'm so sorry. Draco- mustn't have been able to talk about it," Hermione spoke in a rush, "Astoria is gone and the baby, he didn't- make it," Hermione said, heartbroken for the other members of this family that she had never even considered before. If you could say anything positive about the Malfoys, it was that they all very clearly cared about family, even if it was shown in strange ways. Though Hermione was recently beginning to think that there might be other positive things about the family as well, or at least about Draco. She wasn't sure if she could ever imagine herself comfortable with Lucius Malfoy. "I'm so sorry. But- please don't-. I mean, I know you have every right... but Draco was so distraught, and he's been doing much better recently. Just, don't- be hard on him?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Narcissa closed her eyes again, rubbing her forehead in a way that somehow looked dignified. "I do not wish my son anymore heartache, and we were already aware that the ungrateful... _bitch_" she spat out "would be leaving as soon as her pregnancy was over. We just expected it to be a _happier_ occasion."

"Hermione?" Draco's voice came from up the stairs. "Did you call for me?" he asked.

"_We_," she said. "Are down here," Hermione answered, not at all sure how to say that his mother was here, but feeling like she needed to give some warning.

"And my son invited you and your child into our home?" Narcissa asked, now looking more curious than malicious. "His home now, I suppose really. We are now rather well situated in France, but Draco has chosen to remain in England," she commented.

"Yes," Hermione replied quietly as she heard slow step falls coming down the stairs. He had Rose with him too then, judging by the sound of his careful steps.

"Is your child Draco's?" Narcissa asked quietly and urgently, as if the question pained her, though Hermione wasn't at all sure what answer Narcissa hoped to hear.

"No," Hermione answered softly. "I am divorced," she explained briefly.

Narcissa nodded. "Well, Ms. Granger, welcome of Malfoy Manor," she said, just as Draco came into sight in the doorway. Rose was in his arms, wiggling slightly but not seeming upset.

*****Draco*****

Draco stared at his mother, waves of emotion fighting to be recognized. He simply stood there until his mother spoke. "You have a very cute little girl, Miss Granger," his mother said, while keeping her eyes on Draco. "May I see her?" she asked. Draco put all of his concentration into not dropping Rose. He had somehow managed to put off thoughts of his parents for weeks now. He knew that he should have told them, but those thoughts still hurt so much. Also, Draco didn't at all know what to say to his mother about the two females currently making the manor their home, if he could call it that.

Hermione quickly nodded and murmured some form of assent to the question his mother had asked. _He would have to hand over the child. _Even in his emotional and panicked state, Draco noted that Hermione looked adorable, fiddling with the hem of her rather thin night gown that did not even cover her knees. She had stopped wearing her sleeping pants around the house at some point, and often went around dressed like this. She always wore something else when she nursed though, or pulled covers up to her waist before removing her gown. Draco's mother might have thought differently about the attire, but Draco didn't care.

Draco handed Rose to his mother, watching her eyes the whole time.

"She's precious," Narcissa Malfoy said in her formal way around company. They met eyes again before she handed the baby back to Draco after a glance at Hermione. "I will be here for the night or for as long as you need me, Draco," she said before heading up the staircase. An elf must have already moved her bag to her typical visiting room. They had not lived in the master suite since the war. Draco wondered if they ever really intended to return to England at all. They were doing quite well in France, from what Draco had seen. Draco couldn't have spoken, or really have done anything but nod as his mother climbed the steps he had seen all of his life.

Draco looked towards Hermione, not knowing exactly what he was expecting. She certainly couldn't tell him what to do. She couldn't make any of this go away. He could only pretend for a little while before reality greeted him again. His son was dead, and Granger's daughter was most certainly not his to claim. He wouldn't admit that he wished that she was. He had never spoken those words except to little Rose herself, and only in the middle of the night when he was absolutely sure that Hermione was asleep. If tears were shed in those moments, then Rose didn't seem to mind.

Hermione somehow understood enough of what was going through his mind and wrapped her arms around him in a long hug before gently taking hold of Rose. "We'll be in my room, I think, if you need us," she said.

"Thanks," Draco said, not looking at the young woman.

*****Draco*****

Draco stared at the door for at least a minute before going inside. "I am sorry, Mother," he began, before being silenced in shock as his mother wrapped him in a tight hug. She reached one hand out and closed the door behind him.

She did not speak for several seconds as she held tightly to Draco, and Draco did not know what else he could say. "About a year before you were born, I lost a little girl in my sixth month of pregnancy. It always hurts more the later it is, but it hurts no matter what. We lost two more when you were young, very early on both times. I couldn't believe each time that we were trying again, after that pain. We stopped trying after that, because it hurt too much, and were just glad that we had you. We could- should have been better parents, and I apologize for that. We were both aching in silence for many years, over the ones that we had lost," she said a bit more stiffly. "Miscarriages happen, but more frequently in pureblood families, I think. Except those Weasleys. Molly Prewett and Arthur Weasley never lost a single child, making the rest of us hate them more for that than for any political leanings. We were in the same year at Hogwarts, Prewet and I, with some mutual acquaintances that kept in touch later. She would talk for years about how grateful she was that she never lost a child, but she never really _knew_. I _wished_ that they would feel my pain, and it turned me bitter. By the end, I was truly sorry when they felt it that last day, when their boy that was killed."

His mother hesitated, collecting herself in a way that Draco had never seen her need before. They were still tight in each other's arms, though hers had weakened, and Draco was now holding more tightly. He had not had such a hug from his mother since that day of the battle at Hogwarts. "We made that contract for you with the Greengrass girl because she was the only one in our circle that wasn't either a relative of ours or very inbred in their own families. We were told by healers that it was a way to reduce your chances of miscarrying. I just never thought about other factors in a relationship- you're father and I were an arranged marriage, you know, and we came to love each other very much. I hoped to at least spare you the pain of losing a child. We even accepted the _younger_ Greengrass girl, when your status would have deserved far better from the old ways. But we shouldn't have been stuck to the old ways at all, and I am sorry for that. There we all went for generations, killing ourselves off with inbreeding and later by following a mad man," she spoke slowly. "Your father and I did not make wise decisions in our youth, and those faults shaped your life as well, which was entirely unfair to you." Draco only held her more tightly the longer she spoke.

Draco thought that he had been finished with tears enough for a lifetime, but they came in wracking sobs into his mother's shoulder. He wished he could say that he didn't remember the last time he cried in front of his mother, but the war had been filled with those weak moments. At least she still understood. He felt another pang in his heart. He could have had a sister, maybe two or some brothers as well.

When Draco finally felt that he could release his mother, she spoke, "Miss Granger seems pleasant," his mother said, surprising Draco almost more than anything else. "I believe I will leave in the morning, but I am always only an owl or a floo call away," she said, regaining some of her typically strong demeanor. "I suggest you check on Miss Granger," the older mother advised.

Draco nodded, "Thank you," he managed. "For everything. You are a good mother," he told her.

Narcissa Malfoy looked near a different sort of tears when Draco left the room. Draco felt a bit guilty for leaving her, even though she told him to. He was somewhat grateful, because he did not think that he possessed the strength or energy needed to deal with any more tears. He barely bothered halfway wiping his eyes before turning towards Hermione's room, not at all sure why he was going there. But both women had suggested it, so maybe they were right.

_Beautiful_, Draco almost voiced as he opened the door. He hadn't even thought to knock. Hermione had been much less shy around him since their meeting that night, a few weeks ago now. They even had frequent night meetings when Draco thought she could stand to have her sleep interrupted. She must have known that he sometimes still set up charms to not let her hear her infant's screams. Each morning, she smiled just as brightly at him, whether he had given her a full night's sleep or let her wake up twice to a howling child. He never let her wake more than that, even if he often did himself. Sleep was a dangerous task for one with his type of dreams anyway. The only dreams he had now were nightmares or wonderful dreams filled with a beautiful brunette that he could no longer deny was Hermione. Rose would almost always be there was well, and sometimes even more little ones that he knew would have been theirs together. Waking up from these dreams often hurt more than the nightmares.

"Draco, can you close the door?" Hermione asked timidly. He must have been standing there for several moments now. She lay in her bed, nursing Rose. Her other small hand was deliciously inadequate to cover her other breast, swollen so large with mother's milk. He was slightly sorry for her distress at lying bare before the open door. He smiled despite his current mood when she visibly relaxed after the door closed and let her free hand drop to the bed beside her before reaching over to stroke Rose's little head covered in thin brown baby hair.

Draco sat on the bed, wondering why he was there, though Hermione didn't seem bothered in the least by his presence. "I could have had an older sister," he confided softly. "And two little siblings. Would I have been different?" he asked, but not in the way that actually wanted an answer. "I just want the pain to go away, but I don't think it ever does. He didn't even have a name, you know? How terrible is that? She was past six months pregnant. My son was born and lived, fought, for another three hours, and he never even had a name," Draco said, feeling the tears spill over again without even trying to prevent them that time. "We talked about naming a child after her father, Richard, but that was when we were only children ourselves, when we weren't sure that we couldn't make this work- ten years ago now, at least- before Hogwarts I think."

"Richard is a lovely name," Hermione said quietly, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder, and directing his head closer to her own. He nestled into her hair before she guided his head down past her shoulder to the curve right above her breast. His nose brushed for a moment intimately against the top and side of the precious mound before Hermione pulled him down further, tightly against its glorious form. She held him like that for what could have been hours for all hat Draco knew. It was innocent and comforting, not sexual, though Draco appreciated her near perfect beauty even in his present state. It was the most comforting and intimate feeling of his life. He though that perhaps he could feel just a bit better. _Richard._ The pain was somehow slightly less.

*****Hermione*****

Draco had been doing well in the days after his mother departed back for France. Hermione awoke in the night slightly more often, but she felt no reason to complain. Hermione wondered sometimes if Draco liked her presence more in recent days. Sometimes the three of them relaxed on a couch or bed, remaining connected even after Rose drifted to sleep.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, standing at his open door. "Can you watch Rose today if I go out for a bit?" she asked a bit nervously. "Harry and Ginny would really like- I mean, I know they really want to see Rose, but I just can't, not yet- do you mind?" she asked. She knew it was crazy, but she just didn't want to let anyone see Rose. There was that irrational fear that someone would tell her that she wasn't doing anything right and that they would take Rose away. She had always thought that she would be above irrational post-preganacy thoughts, especially more than two months after birth now, but _dammit_, she had to protect her baby. _Keep it together, _she told herself.

"Of course," Draco responded, smiling and already standing up from his desk and walking towards her position at the door.

"Thank you," she whispered, suddenly compelled to give him a quick hug before bolting back into her room to change. She knew that she hadn't actually put much effort into her appearance since Rose was born, or honestly for a while before. Narcissa's visit had highlighted this realization, but hadn't really changed her habits around the house. She generally didn't even change out of various sleepwear, though Draco never seemed to complain. She wanted to put on at least some sort of presentable appearance together before going to Harry's house. Ginny would notice even if Harry didn't. And honestly, even Harry would have to notice if she arrived with hair as frightful as it was at least half the time now.

An hour later, she was sitting down on the couch of Harry and Ginny Potter, a sweet couple married less than a month before Hermione and Ron finally called it quits. Hermione wondered if maybe she and Ron were both just waiting, not wanting to do anything to ruin their best friends' special day. Harry and Ginny were family to both of them, and had been before any marriage licenses were signed. As awkward as it was to think about, Rose must have been conceived that night, because those activities weren't exactly frequent for them at that time. She had berated herself countless times for letting herself get caught up in the moment, forgetting their problems as well as contraception spells. The last potion she had taken had long since worn off. It had been a while even back then. Still, she wouldn't regret anything about having Rose.

Looking at Ginny, she had immediately noticed that her muggle style shirt was looser than the younger witch usually wore, making Hermione instantly curious. That was the way Hermione started, looser clothes when she wasn't even really showing yet but was already self-conscious about it.

"Hermione, you've been my family since I was eleven years old, and nothing with anyone else could ever change that," Harry stated, smiling with an almost begging look at her.

"We completely understand whenever you want your space, but we are so glad that you are here now, and you should know how much we both love you and want to do whatever we can," Ginny put in.

"I still need you Hermione. You're like my big sister. Ginny's too. Ginny and I, we both need you and love you so much," Harry spoke again.

Hermione smiled. They sounded almost like they had even rehearsed this, but Hermione suspected that Harry and Ginny just understood each other that well. Even when they were happy, Hermione and Ron had never had anything like that. Even after years of friendship, they baffled each other on a daily basis, sometimes in unpleasant way. Harry and Ginny sounded almost as in sync as the Weasley twins. That stray thought hurt, thinking casually of someone that they'd lost. George was still somewhat a shell the last time Hermione had seen him, which Hermione realized was over eleven months ago now. He was smiling at the wedding, but not as widely as he did every day years ago. She didn't want to lose the whole family just because she and Ron weren't meant for each other. Bill and Fleur would have had their first child a while ago now, perhaps a month before she herself delivered, and Hermione hadn't even heard anything. Though she hadn't actually read all of the letters that Ginny had sent when Hermione was particularly emotional, so all of the news was probably in there.

"You really look great, Hermione," Ginny said smiling.

"Thanks, though I haven't felt like myself in months. It's-"

"Different?" Ginny suggested, smiling.

Hermione smiled in return, "I am excited for both of you. When are you due, Ginny?" Hermione asked, knowing exactly what her friend was thinking.

Harry seemed surprised that Hermione caught onto that information without any words, but Ginny squealed. She seemed just as excited as her wedding day, and it warmed Hermione's heart a bit. "Still almost eights month away, but we wanted to tell you first. We just didn't know how unless you came here. We haven't even told the rest of the family yet. I'm so excited that our children can grow up together, and I can't to meet my little neice," Ginny went on, not realizing the increasing stress on Hermione.

Hermione could not bite back her defensive tendencies, even though a psrt of her mind knew that she must look and sound crazy, "By law, Rose is a _Granger_, not a Weasley," she said, knowing that it would hurt the younger woman, but saying it anyway. No one else could claim or take her baby.

Ginny had that look of trying to keep a smile on her face, "I- know. I was just..."

Hermione broke in, knowing that the young witch really meant no harm. It must be scary for her to have a child so young, just as Hermione had done. Hermione knew that Harry and Ginny had planned on waiting longer first. To think that Ginny was telling her this before even her own mother. "No, I'm sorry Ginny. I'm just... It's been a lot to go through," Hermione amended, hoping she hadn't cut even more ties by her hurried words.

"We're here whenever you need us, Hermione," Harry spoke, arm wrapped around his wife. Hermione hadn't thought about it before, so cut off from reality as she was, but Harry had probably left work just to see her today, once Hermione finally responded that she would come. Guilt bit further into her heart. "I guess you already have someone else watching Rose, but we'd always do whatever we can," he offered delicately. "And I think little James or Lily will have _lots_ of aunts and uncles with several different last names. Blood doesn't mean anything Hermione. I know that better than most, I think. Just like you're still my sister," he said gently.

Hermione still sometimes expected him to be the fifteen-year-old emotional train wreck, but that was much more her role lately, it seemed. Harry had grown up long ago. If she admitted to herself, Ron had grown up too. She and Ron had just not grown up into compatible people, and they were lucky that their break wasn't even messier than it was. Maybe one day they could even share some sort of friendship again, even a shallow one, but that was probably too much to ask for. Maybe a yearly Christmas card exchange.

"Thank you. And yes- we're staying with a- friend," she said, deciding on the word after she figured that she had been silent for too long already.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked, always the protective brother figure, for all that she was almost a year older than he was. "Do we know this- friend?"

"Yes you do, though h- though not someone you might expect. But we're safe and happy," Hermione stated vaguely. She knew that she wasn't helping anything with her noncommittal language, but that was all the assurance that she could muster. She had wanted to say less.

Harry nodded slowly, not satisfied but looking willing to accept the word of his old friend. Ginny seemed infinitely more curious. She looked like one of the twins again, "It's okay to move on, you know," she said, making Harry look uncomfortable, though he didn't protest. "I don't know if you want to hear it, but I think you should know that Ron- has started seeing a girl," she said quietly.

"Good for him," Hermione replied, not surprised anymore that the news didn't hurt her as it probably would have for most people.

"You'll find someone better for you, Hermione, I know you will," Ginny said, somewhat romantically.

"What's better for me?" Hermione asked, curiously, refusing to think that she was desperate for the younger girl's advice.

"Someone that you don't have to mother," Ginny said. "Someone who isn't much below your intellect."

"Someone who won't try to hold you back," Harry threw in after consideration. "Hermione, you'll make the greatest discoveries of our age and rewrite the legal system of Magical Great Britain while you are at it. "You'll be in more books than I am, Hermione, and you'll be remembered for longer," her oldest friend said. "And someone who you don't mind taking care of you sometimes, when you need it. And whom you can do the same for."

"Thank you," Hermione said after consideration over the wise words that came from her friends' mouths. "And out of curiosity, what does Ron need?" she asked delicately, actually out of curiosity this time. The question didn't even hurt until she wondered if she was actually what _anyone_ needed. How could anyone need her when she wasn't even the clever, rational one anymore?

"An eighteen-year-old, barely out of Hogwarts," Ginny spoke with a small sigh. "Someone who thinks that he is the biggest hero around _and tells him so regularly_, but who won't make him think of the war. Someone who will tell him that the Chudley Cannons should be _begging_ him to join them, but that he wouldn't want to travel that much anyway. That it's okay that he quit the aurors, and that he loves the joke shop more than he'd admit. And I know that you were a lot greater than he recognized, Hermione, and it's not your fault at all," the girl rambled.

"He's still an idiot, if you ask me," Harry offered, though Hermione knew that Harry and Ron were still close, and she wouldn't have changed that if she could.

"It was mutual, Harry. But, thank you for- being there for him, and I'm sorry if I pushed you away," Hermione said, as forming words became increasingly difficult. "I- need to go now, but maybe I can bring Rose by sometime?" she offered questioningly.

Both Ginny and Harry smiled and nodded, Harry helping Hermione to her feet and into a hug that Ginny quickly came over to share.

Even during the hug, Hermione was scolding herself because she realized getting back to the manor wasn't something she had given thought to before leaving it. The action of visiting her old friends had taken so much courage and convincing herself, that she had missed the obvious problem of returning. It was fine to floo over to the Potters, but getting back was more difficult when she didn't want to say the name of where she was going if she could help it. Still, she didn't feel that she had a good enough idea of the manor's location from the outside to try to apparate back into it. Hermione hurried over to the floo and muttered, "Malfoy Manor" as quietly as she could, hoping the others couldn't hear. In that frozen time that was not physically possible with a floo, Hermione chanced a glance up to see in that instant. Harry didn't look like he had been able to hear her, but the last image Hermione saw was Ginny Weasley's wide eyes.

Ugh.

**A/N: I hope you liked it **** Getting to see a little of the outside world interacting with our main characters. I'm so excited writing all of this, and I hope you tell me what you think. I would love some more feedback and reviews. Thank you so much for everything! I'm sorry that this chapter took a bit longer to get out.**


	5. Beauty and Pain

Chapter 5- Beauty and Pain

**A/N: So I actually did a fair amount of research for this one to make everything accurate, having never had a baby myself. I hope the chapter doesn't bother people. Sorry if it does. Hermione's views certainly don't reflect my own. Or Draco's.**

*****Hermione*****

Rose grew every day, as weeks turned to months, and Hermione Granger, Rose Granger, and Draco Malfoy were all living under the same roof. They fell into a natural rhythm of a day. Breakfast became fairly optional, often grabbed quickly with Hermione doing a great deal of research in the morning while Rose slept or was with Draco. Draco would wander in around midday saying that if he didn't then Hermione would simply forget to eat. Rose was always dressed in adorable little outfits, even though Hermione recognized less than half of them from her purchases before Rose was born.

After their own lunch, which was usually brought up to the library, Hermione would feed Rose herself, generally in her room or the nursery, because she couldn't feel comfortable being shirtless on a couch in a library, even after Draco said that it didn't matter. It just seemed to be a violation of libraries in general and everything that she had grown up holding as almost sacred. Reclining on a bed was best anyway, more relaxing, which was nice, because Rose was seemingly never done eating. Hermione didn't see how a woman could manage feeding completely by herself, and she was glad that Rose didn't seem to mind switching between bottle and breast, like some of her books warned that newborns might. Without help, Hermione would never find time for anything else besides nursing, though she wasn't always sure why she wanted to.

Her books assured Hermione that it was a perfectly… normal to feel good, after the first few _tiresome_ tries, but it was difficult to convince the young mother that these sensations were typical. Breastfeeding was _relaxing_ and more than that. It sometimes made her sleepy, and was undeniably pleasant, sometimes actually feeling somewhat less than _appropriate_. It didn't feel very dissimilar from well- being turned on, so to speak. Even if the muggle books said it was normal... (Wizards didn't write about such things.) The human body was immensely complicated and signals could be confused, Hermione supposed. It wasn't as if she was some pervert attracted to her own child. The nursing just felt- good. Perfectly normal though highly embarrassing for the intellectual and rational young witch, even if it shouldn't be.

Those physical and emotional feelings weren't any less confusing because of the young man beside her, who was at the moment lending his bare left arm and shoulder as a resting place as she nursed her daughter. He didn't even bother putting on a shirt half of the days now, and Hermione didn't feel like protesting. He bottle-fed Rose for more than half of her feedings anyway, and Rose was still picky about having skin contact.

Before leaning against Draco, Hermione couldn't become comfortable lying down completely, and her back started to ache terribly after sitting up for long periods of time. After the first murmur of complaint of back pain weeks ago, Hermione was shocked to find large, soft hands moving across her bare back and shoulders. Hermione wasn't sure if she had ever been given a back rub in her entire life. She wasn't someone that would ask for one from one of her male friends, and female friends were few in numbers. From that day forward, she nursed leaning against a combination of pillows and Draco Malfoy.

The pleasant feelings were swiftly ruined by looking away from Rose's face to the rest of her own mangled body. Her fingers reached up to graze the angry red marks covering her still round stomach. _At least when she had been pregnant, her skin had been tight_. It had almost been cute for a while before becoming completely grotesque in the later months. Now her skin hung loose like an elephant, or just a disfigured old woman. She couldn't even convince herself anymore that her breasts looked nicer. They were bumped, and the nipples and areolas were unnaturally dark. It didn't help that she hadn't shaved or plucked… anything in months, and pregnancy had thickened even her already wild hair, and not just on her head. All of the hair was finally starting to return to normal at least, even if it meant excess shedding. The most that she found herself ably to do was to bathe regularly. At least she managed that.

_Dammit, she was disgusting_. She couldn't believe that Draco hadn't protested. Her breasts were even getting lopsided despite her constant attempts to even herself out. Rose favored her right breast, and Hermione knew that it was because that was the side closest to Draco as they usually arranged themselves. She couldn't even blame Rose for loving Draco more thank her own mother, if babies could love at that age. Draco was simply better at all of this, and Rose certainly seemed to respond to it. When Rose was at Hermione's right breast, Draco would often reach over the short distance and rub Rose's little head and cheek, never quite touching Hermione's breast, not that he would want to. _Not that anyone would want to_. Tears pooled in Hermione's eyes and treacherously leaked out.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked softly near her ear. Hermione felt sure this time that he was entirely responsible for the shiver going down her spine, but she wasn't any more comfortable with it.

_Did she even need a reason to cry anymore? And since when was any man this perceptive?_ Hermione knew that this was a grossly stereotypical generalization and only perpetuated a social normal of men being forced to be emotionless, but she would have rather it been true this once. _Since when was Draco Malfoy caring- and soft- and a perfect pillow- and honestly gorgeous- and absolutely wonderful in everything in general?_

"It's just so hard," she managed to say. "I'm bloated and stretched, and my hair is falling out whenever I touch it, after it grew completely out of control for months. I- I bleed a lot- and other things. My feet still aren't back to normal. Nothing is, and maybe it never will be. What if the treatments don't work? I'm not supposed to care; I'm supposed to be too _smart_ to care about physical beauty, but I hate the stretch marks. I hate that I can still barely even see my feet when I look down. And I'm so tired all the time, even though you do so much. And I'm a terrible mother. And I don't know why I even care what I look like anymore, because it's not like I was much to look at in the first place…" Hermione spoke in a rush.

*****Draco*****

_Damn_. What was she even saying? _"Not much to look at?"_ Damn. Self-deprecation could only be tolerably for so long, even for Hermione Granger. The woman clearly had a vision problem concerning herself. It was maddening to the point that Draco wanted to scream. Draco couldn't even think clearly, which he would try to blame later. His lips found hers, if only to silence her list of her imaginary faults. Their lips' meeting was gentler than Draco had pictured in his head, for whenever he finally lost control; he'd thought about it often. But he was probably still rougher, more forward than it should have been.

_A man could only take so much._ Draco wondered if she even _owned_ a bra that fit her properly, because she always seemed to just go without while walking around the house, somehow imaging that any male in the vicinity simply wouldn't notice, wouldn't be unable to tear his eyes away. _Though she had worn more covering clothes when she went to visit Potter…_ The shifting under her thin robes every day was absolutely maddening. Draco may have taken to keeping the manor significantly warmer than it had been in his childhood, so that Hermione wouldn't feel the need to put on an outer robe. He was probably masochistic for putting himself through such sweet torture of even the vision of her, but it didn't prompt him to stop.

_ Draco slipped one arm around the thankfully silent Rose, just to make sure that she was not_ forgotten and dropped, as he deepened the kiss with the young mother, slipping his tongue past her surprisingly eagerly parting lips and ghosting over her upper teeth before meeting her tongue with his.

Hermione moaned softly, and without a doubt, Draco had never heard a sexier sound in his life. It almost making him lose control entirely. He needed her to understand that no physical body could possibly be more attractive than hers was right now- or any time really. He angled his by now physically painful erection to press against her soft hip, his erection straining against far much clothing, clear sign of his attraction. In recent days, she didn't even have to say anything and he would sport half a hard-on whenever he saw her, ever since that first night nursing. But goodness, he loved it when she did talk, even if just about her research when he had very little to say back. He loved sitting and listening, often holding Rose. Kissing Hermione was almost too much to stand, and Draco wanted her to know it, needed her to know.

If he didn't stop soon, Draco thought he might just go off in his trousers like a damn fourth year. She was so beautiful, so real right there in his arms. Draco slipped off of the bed and away from the witch, first adjusting her own arm slightly to better support Rose again without even thinking about his actions. "Have the spells and whatever done when you are ready, if you must. Or don't. You really don't have to," Draco said as he walked toward the door, desperately needing to leave the room before he took any further action. Actions that would sorely hurt him if she were to reject his movements. More terrifying still was the idea that she might comply. Draco didn't even try to conceal the prominent bulge in his trousers as he walked towards the door. He'd been hiding it for months, with pillow and tables, strategic leg placement and hands in pockets uncomfortably. She already knew now anyway. He had wanted her to know so desperately. Damn, he'd acted as rashly as a _Gryffindor_.

Something possessed him to turn around, and do something even more. It was probably her unfocused eyes and her still-parted lips that allowed him just a glimpse of her perfect white teeth. "I never could have said it as a fourth year, but I _liked_ your little beaver teeth and I was just an idiot that didn't know how to act around the brilliant, pretty little Gryffindor. I maintain that I was punished enough by never getting to see them again. However, I do apologize. I'm very sorry," he said, slipping out of the room before she could respond. All of that silenced even the great Gryffindor know-it-all, Draco thought, allowing himself a small smirk when he was halfway down the hall, though he was trembling himself, and his heart was beating completely out of control. Emotions and insecurity at a possibly all-time high, Draco had to flee, at least down the stairs. He couldn't believe that he had just flung everything, his body and heart at her feet, waiting to be picked up and held or to be trampled underfoot.

*****Draco*****

Draco stopped walking in the kitchen when he saw a strange, colorful bird eating at the owl stand. Hermione must have already received the post this morning. Draco wouldn't know anyone with such a bird. He hadn't actually been downstairs that morning, and he hadn't realized that Hermione had either. In the past two weeks, he had actually felt comfortable enough to call on a house elf for the first time in years, and had taken to eating almost all of his meals upstairs. The little elves seemed delighted, asking if I wanted to take a personal elf assistant from my apparent role as new head of the household, but that was still too much to face.

A letter was left half-open on the kitchen table, and natural Slytherin curiosity took over. One couldn't function without as much information as possible, a sentiment that Hermione would even agree with in theory, though she probably wouldn't like his actions. The letter must have been for Hermione, but Draco wouldn't resist a peek. Draco would later blame his increased vulnerability at the time.

Draco's eyes scanned down the page of loopy writing, catching key lines in the rambling, "Sorry for not writing to you sooner... tracking Crumpled-horned... _would be delighted to have you stay_..." Draco couldn't read any more. His eyes darted to the bottom of the page where it was signed, "Luna." Luna? _Luna Loony Lovegood of all people! She would leave me for her?!_

_Of course_, he told himself, trying to remain calm. He shouldn't be surprised. Their arrangement was only ever temporary anyway, he reminded himself. But clearly she hadn't even wanted to stay here until she could have her own place again. It seemed that she would have moved out sooner if Loony had written her back earlier. When had she asked? _When had she decided that she was so sick of seeing his face that she had to leave?_ Didn't want her daughter bonding with a _Malfoy_, with a _Death Eater._

It didn't matter that Rose was already almost three month old and recognized his voice. It didn't matter that he spent more time with her than Herm- than Granger did herself. He was better with Rose, with her, undeniably; Rose behaved better with him. But that didn't matter; she wasn't his- would never be his. _Neither of them would ever be_, the little voice told him. It didn't even matter than he loved her, the little one of course. Dammit, he loved Granger too, didn't he? Even if she had seemed to respond to his kisses, it meant nothing to her. There was no picturesque little family for Draco Malfoy. Never would be. Death Eaters didn't deserve such luxuries. Clearly she wanted to move out... She obviously thought that Looney Lovegood was a better choice to help her raise Ro- the child, her child- than he was.

"Draco," Herm- Granger- called from the stairway. She entered the room wearing that nearly shameful nightgown that was scarcely more than a long shirt, carrying her child. The nerve of her to disregard his efforts, his- his feelings, damn her. He knew that he was really the one to blame. He'd gotten what he really deserved, a terrible wife, a divorce, and a loss so great he still couldn't bear it sometimes. He could only manage when was near little Rose, but that wasn't his right.

"I'll have your belongings sent to the Lovegood residence as soon as you leave," Draco said stiffly, attempting to at least be cordial.

Herm- Granger's brow creased in a way that he tried to convince himself was most certainly not adorable. It was disfiguring and irritating if anything at all. _Not that he would notice her looks._ She was just a- just muggleborn that he wasn't interested in remotely. As if he could even pretend that so stupid of a difference mattered anymore. He couldn't even say that vile word in his own mind now, the word still scarred on her beautiful arm. It still hurt him that he had once thrown it at her so carelessly. Maybe he had been the first to call her such a wretched name. Draco was softening, deep in regret, just as she spoke.

"You read my mail," Granger said accusingly, when Draco was trying his best to regain control of his currently fragile emotions. He wasn't sure that she deserved it at this moment anyway. Rose, always well attuned with the mood of the room, promptly began yelling at the top of her tiny but strong lungs.

Draco tried to remain unaffected by the child's screams and by her mother's words. The traitorous part of his consciousness reminded him that she had always looked beautiful when she was angry, ever since she was a child. The proud lioness's backbone hadn't been seen much in her months here. He couldn't let himself be swayed by irrational sexual attraction, "It's my bloody house that you've just taken up in for the last three months. I didn't realize that it was such a burden to have a free manor to live in, house elves to fulfill your every whim. Me, sickeningly hanging on every cry and whimper. Get out!" he ended in a shout, emphasizing anger to hold off the tears. He was a Malfoy, he repeated to himself.

"I never _asked_ you for anything," Hermione protested. "But fine, if that's what you want, _Malfoy_," she snapped back, spatting out his name in the vile manner that it deserved. Death Eaters, all of them. Draco thought he spotted tears in her eyes, but he was too agitated again to give it much notice. "I'll leave right this instant," she continued, turning on her heels, awkwardly grabbing floo powder that was located above her head while keeping hold of her screeching child. Draco couldn't even hear the destination through the wailing. The last thing he saw was Granger's- was Hermione's eyes, filled with anger, maybe even hatred, and certainly with hurt. Her empathetic baby screaming more loudly than Draco had ever heard little Rose scream. At least someone cared.

_Damn Hermione. Granger._ No, Damn _him_. She'd be fine without him. He was the one left with an ache that he hadn't felt since that day months ago now- no, it was even worse than that. As terrible as it sounded in his mind, this moment hurt more than when his newborn son died, the son that he had awaited for so many months and that he had never even been able to hold. The son for which he had suffered through awkward and thoroughly unpleasurable intercourse with that irritating woman. Nothing that burdensome could ever be called sex, though Draco honestly had no real comparison and didn't feel like he ever would now. Surely a person could only stand so much damage, so much hurt.

He hadn't thought that a loss could be worse, that he could feel more beaten down than the moment that the incompetent healer told him that they had done the "best that they could." _Damn them as well_. Now he had lost not one child but two, and a woman that he would never be good enough for, as much as she might protest that she was flawed. She was a lioness with angel wings in the mind of Draco Malfoy.

Draco sank to the floor in tears, not feeling the strength to move for some time. There were still several things that he should attend to, and now sending Hermione's things away was added to the growing list. And a trip to Diagon Alley that had been weighing on his mind for over a month. There was no real reason to change that plan even now. It wasn't like he felt any differently, even though he was nothing but undeserving, angry and emotional scum.

**A/N: I'm so sorry to have mixed the happiness and the sadness in one chapter, but it would be far too short otherwise. Please tell me what you think, especially about the first segment. I am so nervous writing things like that, even though I know it's fairly mild. Why do you think Draco is going to Diagon Alley?**

**It kills me to leave the chapter with characters unhappy at the moment, but please tell me what you think! I promise that the next chapter will be a happier one. There were just so many emotions and the scenes fit together in my head, even though they were so different in tone. Draco feels betrayed particularly acutely after he had just made himself so vulnerable, and Hermione doesn't think that she should have to defend her actions.**


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